Fluff To The Nines
by Canadihipster
Summary: In which I continue posting old fics while I cannot write new ones.


There was a rhythmic pattern of plunks, wet drops quietly hitting the tile every twenty seconds or so. It'd taken less than an hour for such an upset state to be provoked by the mind itself, exactly eight hundred and forty two seconds for the body to follow along that path of horrid feelings. It all seemed so pointless - Everything, existence, crying, breathing. There was no reason. Why did plants grow and the planets turn? Why did the stars bother to shine? There had never been a real reason for anything, nor anyone, to exist, and that train of thought spiraled downward into the usual feelings of self-loathing and misery. It couldn't be healthy to experience such on a regular basis, but who could really blame the male?

A new sound joined the occasional drops of watered-down crimson; footfalls. Converse smacking down casually, the sound less yielding and almost painful to listen to. Among all of these things, of course, other noises were heard. The rustling of clothing, the subtlest shift of a strand of hair. It one listened close enough, they could even hear their own eyes shifting in their sockets. A heartbeat - Then two, saliva dripping from a tooth held into a slack jaw by pink gums onto a tongue of a darker shade. Wind quietly swirling outside, brushing it's gentle fingers across the tops of leaves yearning to follow along, giving trees chills. Many things could be heard, and his ears were angled downwards, trying to block out as much as possible in the sound of his own pulse.

It was then, he discovered, the sound of vocality was more painful than the footfalls which had ceased. "If you're going to sit around and mope all day like a pathetic asshole during his last few moments breathing, I'm honestly going to deck you in the face until your skull finally caves in. I'm surprised your own stupidity hasn't done that already," no, he was wrong. The sound of the vocality caused by the voicebox and projected from the throat in a tone that almost sounded untruthful towards it's own words was comforting. Smooth and fairly deep and familiar. The words spoken were what hurt. The language was not his own, but he understood perfectly well. The accent was not familiar to his home, but the range was.

Both arms pulled his leg closer, head hanging to allow the noir tresses of his bangs to cover his swollen eyes, resting above tear-streaked cheeks. One leg was bent, held to his chest, side of his head pressing against his knee. The other was laying on the ground, also bent, towards his body. Both ears were down, most of his form's features hidden by the overly sized, high collared sweater he wore. The troll didn't reply to the human who'd spoken at first, simply curled in on himself ever farther, grey eyelids finally hiding dandelion rimmed optics.

"If you're going to tell me how much a fuck-up I am and how this shit isn't healthy, I suggest you take your leave now," his voice cracked. It was deep and quiet and laced with misery and pain and confusion and, had the blonde been his own kind, the will for him to stay would have been easily heard. Footsteps started once more and his heart jumped into his throat. He wasn't leaving.

A warmth overcame him, unfolding his limbs with nimble, pale fingers, coiling around him and intertwining their digits together, soft skin pressed against his. Somehow, in a span of time he'd somehow forgotten to record, the Cancer found himself between the other male's legs, held against him, fingers laced together as the human ran his lips lightly over his knuckles from somewhere at his shoulder. Back to chest, the feel was almost dizzying, and he allowed his eyes to half lid - When had he opened them? - as his head slumped back against the other's shoulder.

Everything was gentle and warm and affectionate and something inside of him ached and burned and the urge to cry once more washed over him in uncontrollable waves. Karkat leaned his head back, brushing his own lips softly against the boy in shade's throat. He was met with no resistance, not even when he turned in Dave's arms, ran his hands up his chest and held his shoulders, nudged and bumped their foreheads together in gentle headbutts, the dark voids of sunglasses too dark to give a hint as to what lay beneath.

It took a moment, but the human returned the affection, one arm around his upper back and the other around his waist. And, as the troll brushed the backs of his fingers up a cheek, gently wrapping less nimble fingers around the rim of those shades, they only pulled him closer. Lightly nudging their noses against eachother almost hesitantly, the cherry blood carefully removed the accessory, quickly glancing downwards as he folded them in his lap, holding them there. There was a light noise, made from the back of the blonde's throat and sounding of encouragement, and Karkat lifted his gaze once more.

The very colour that he despised more than anything in the universe stared at him with affection and caring and maybe even a hint of pity, and his mind went blank and scattered and the world crashed around him for the second time that day, the only hint to that the furrowing of his brows. His head ducked, pushing into the human's neck, placing a gentle smattering of kisses all along the area, tracing his jawline and trailing over his cheeks and eventually brushing their lips together.

There was no resistance, and pressure was returned on his own mouth, lips parting immediately as his head spun, a feeling as if he was about to faint while falling through a heated void of bright colours and a hand on his thigh and then two on his hips and the floor on his back and a mouth working on his all the time and a body leaning over him between his legs and said appendages wrapping around his waist. Both hands cupped the blonde's cheeks, thumb brushing over the high bones _but it wasn't enough_ and they slid back to tangle in hair and bring him closer, back arching up against that chest above him as it pressed back down.

The very kiss itself - Something which felt too amazing and fantastic and sweet to even be called a kiss. - was gentle, soft and skilled in a way that tasted of imperfection, of inexperience. It was endearing that there were so many little mistakes his tongue could pick up, yet Karkat himself was a terrible, terrible giver of such mouthy affection, and he himself was just as clumsy, a smile tugged at his lips and bringing a breathless laugh bubbling up over it. The noise caused Dave to draw his lips away only by a centimeter as they pulled upwards as well, foreheads and noses and lips and cheeks nuzzling and brushing and bumping against eachother, tears building up in the Cancer's eyes and bubbling over in something akin to joy rather than sadness. And it was the first time in a long, long while that the troll had smiled, let alone laughed, and the Strider boy seemed to enjoy it just as much, whispering soft words and dumb jokes and playful fighting words as their bodies continued to move against eachother, the kissing turning to gentle wrestling and rolling and snuggling and more kissing.

All of such went on for exactly sixty minutes and twenty two seconds, until Karkat was curled up on the other male's chest both tired out and breathing a bit heavily and rather deeply, limbs entangled in eachother and heat shared as an exhausted haze set in.


End file.
